


The Art Of Conversation

by Kogiopsis, TheRangress



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: M/M, minor Adolin, minor Bridge Four, minor Lopen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kogiopsis/pseuds/Kogiopsis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRangress/pseuds/TheRangress
Summary: Kaladin isn't good at words, or feelings. Renarin's only good at one of those.





	The Art Of Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Kogiopsis, http://kogiopsis.tumblr.com/post/156432423394/hernameisevilevelyn-replied-to-your-post

So it turned out Renarin had a beautiful laugh, and Kaladin spilled an entire bowl of stew down the front of his shirt. He stood and hastily made his excuses, wiping at it with anything handy— his sleeve, his coat, Lopen.

“Hey!” called Lopen, but Kaladin was already gone.

“Do you think he’s all right?” Renarin asked, now subdued again. He craned his neck to watch the captain disappear into the distance.

“Oh,” said Eth, nudging him on the shoulder, “probably just eager to follow them Codes in case your father comes for dinner.”

“My father is not going to come for dinner.”

“And why not?’ Rock bellowed, hitting the pot with his ladle. “There is enough stew for him! No chull dung for Kholins!”

Renarin snickered into his sleeve. “He’s a bit busy,” he explained, “courting my aunt.”

Bridge Four hooted knowingly.

“He should court her with stew,” said Rock, pouting.

“What’s more appealing than a bunch of crude and smelly bridgemen?” Drehy gestured to the crude and smelly bridgemen surrounding him. “Very romantic.”

“You are not appealing.” Rock folded his arms. “Stew. Stew is appealing.”

“I happen to think Drehy is _very_ appealing.” Lopen finished licking stew off his sleeve. With a wink at Drehy, he moved to the other side of the campfire, crouching by Sigzil’s side and tapping at his shoulder.

“Yes?” asked Sigzil, not turning to look at Lopen. “Before you ask, no, not after what happened last time.”

“Who is it on patrol duty together next?” He sat down. “And it did not go _that_ badly, Sigzil.”

“The captain and Drehy. Why?”

“I am thinking,” Lopen said slowly, “that it should be the captain— and _our little prince_.”

Sigzil turned his head slowly, eyes narrowed. “Why?” he repeated.

“Do you not have eyes?” Lopen sighed. “Look at how I have just become covered in stew because the captain was distracted by _Renarin_. There are feelings between those two.”

“Feelings?”

He leaned in toward Sigzil’s cheek and made loud kissing noises. Sigzil swatted him away, and Lopen kissed his hand.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, leaning back, “when it comes to these two men, I believe it incredibly unlikely that they would ever speak a single word of this if left to their own devices. This is why it is the place of friends like us to give them… a little push.”

“I hardly think putting them on patrol together is going to make them talk about these alleged feelings.” Sigzil sighed. “You’re going to keep bothering me about this until I change it, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I am going to keep bothering you regardless.”

He took a deep breath, turning to face Lopen’s broad grin and waggling eyebrows. “All right,” he said, simply.

“And furthermore— all right?”

“Yes. All right. I’ll change it so Renarin is on patrol with the captain.”

“Oh.”

For once in his life, Lopen shut up.

 

* * *

 

The walls of Urithiru almost seemed to glow violet in the moonlight.

Kaladin looked out into the night, watching Renarin pace out the corner of his eye.

“So,” he said.

“Yes?” Renarin turned sharply, wide-eyed and at attention.

“Er,” said Kaladin. “Nothing.”

“Yes, captain.” Renarin nodded. He turned and looked over the city, lips slightly parted.

Kaladin faced away, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

The wind was cool, but not chilling. The stars were bright and the moons full. Their footsteps were the only sounds, echoing into the night.

“It’s…” Kaladin cleared his throat. “A real nice night for an evening.”

He wished he hadn’t spoken.

“I suppose it is,” Renarin said, turning. He was just in time to see Kaladin launch himself into the air.

“Oh,” said Renarin, as Kaladin vanished. He adjusted his grip on his spear. “Perhaps not that nice, then.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m an idiot,” he told Syl, lying face-down on his bed.

“No, you’re a big dummy.”

“That’s the _same thing_.”

“No it’s not. I said so.”

“I’m never going to speak to Renarin again.” He pulled the pillow over his head. “I can’t.”

“Spoken like a true dummy.”

 

* * *

 

Renarin sat down, and Kaladin stood up.

“Again,” Renarin mumbled to himself, putting his stew aside. Suddenly he’d lost his appetite.

Everyone else was laughing, and though he hadn’t heard the joke, Renarin still joined in.

 

* * *

 

 

“I haven’t seen our little prince,” Lopen commented. “Do you think he’s all right?”

“Probably just got some Kholin business,” Teft said, “more important than us.”

“He’s not like that,” Kaladin said, softly. “Not Renarin.”

“Ah,” Lopen said, tilting back and doing his best impression of a sage, “you would know, would you not? Why has the prince abandoned us for dinner, then?”

Kaladin muttered something.

“I am sure you are correct, but I did not hear you.”

Kaladin’s bowl clattered as he put it down. “He’s avoiding me.”

Once again, he turned to leave.

 

* * *

 

Renarin stepped out of the stable and saw his aunt.

This wouldn’t be good.

“Why are you avoiding your duties with Bridge Four?” she asked, arms folded. Navani wasted no time.

“I am not,” he said, folding his arms in turn. He held his chin high, tilted and twitching. “I was just grooming my horse.”

“You have been avoiding Bridge Four for _months_ now, and you are not the sort of man to do this.” She stepped toward him. “Come now, Renarin. You do not abandon things, much less those that mean so very much to you.”

“I haven’t abandoned anything.” He had. He knew he had, and took a deep breath. Why had lying gotten so very hard, all of a sudden? You told the truth once, and suddenly you lost all ability to hide it.

“We cannot help you if you will not tell us how.” She spoke gently but firmly. “Tell someone your trouble. I don’t insist it’s me. You have been so much stronger, more confident, and _happier_ with Bridge Four. I don’t want to see you lose that.”

“It is nobody’s trouble but my own.”

“We are your family, Renarin. Your troubles are our own. I believe that goes for the bridgemen, as well, if you’d ask them.”

He kicked at the dirt. “Yes,” he said, “but…”

“But what?”

When had he gotten so bad at lying? Renarin stared at the ground. “Kaladin hates me,” he said.

“That’s not true.”

“He is avoiding me.”

Navani paused. “That is true,” she allowed.

“You see? He hates me.”

“You don’t hate him, and you’re avoiding him.”

“He avoided me first. We were on patrol together and he _shot into the sky_ to avoid having to talk to me.”

“He probably just hates conversation.” Navani stepped forward and put her hand on Renarin’s shoulder. “Avoiding him solves nothing. We just have to find out why he’s doing this.”

“He’s doing it because he hates me.” Renarin took a deep breath, leaning into his aunt.

“We don’t know that.”

“People tend to hate me.”

“Captain Kaladin seemed to like you very much. I can’t see any reason he’d suddenly change his mind.”

“I opened my mouth, and words came out. That should be reason enough.”

Navani sighed and took Renarin by both shoulders. “Renarin, why do you insist on speaking of yourself this way?”

“Because it’s true, Mashala. I have a gift for sucking the life from conversation.” He raised his hands. “When nobody likes you, then you must be unlikeable. Don’t say I have a family— it’s family’s job to like me.”

“Those bridgemen like you,” she said instead, “and I’m sure they miss you. You were never unlikeable, merely out of place. You _found_ your place, Renarin. Don’t give that up out of fear. I know you’re stronger than that.”

Navani looked down at him, her face solemn. Renarin squirmed out of her arms, wrapping his around himself.

“I remember what you went through with the other children,” she said quietly. “Chana knows I wish I could have helped then. You don’t have to allow what happened then to rule your life. Captain Kaladin is no Highprince’s son, and you don’t need to fear him.”

“But I do.” Renarin’s words came slowly, from a dry mouth. “Not him, it’s not him I fear, it’s disappointing him. To know what I did wrong, Mashala…”

“If you have made a mistake, you can reconcile.” Navani was firm now. “You will solve nothing by running away and trying to fade into obscurity, Renarin. We _both_ know you’re stronger than that.”

He looked down, and slowly nodded.

Did he know that?

 

* * *

 

Adolin was wearing a hat.

Kaladin took a sip of wine. “Princeling! Did your horse mistake your head for a toilet?”

“Captain!” Brightness Navani snapped. She gestured to the party around them. “Please avoid scandalizing anyone unnecessarily. Dalinar is bad enough without the rest of us assisting him.”

“You’re one to speak of scandal,” Renarin commented mildly, with a drink of wine. He was accompanying his brother tonight. For some reason, Brightness Navani had been trying to make conversation with Kaladin. It made him uncomfortable.

“Insolent child,” she grumbled, not without affection.

Renarin was staring at him, and Kaladin slipped his gaze away. He’d made a fool of himself. He had to explain himself, he had to reach out and try to mend this, but the idea of speaking again made him reach for another glass. Even if he was only drinking orange.

“I didn’t know Brightness Davar had an interest in fashion,” Renarin commented.

“What? She doesn’t,” said Adolin. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, the only reason I could think of for you to wear that thing on your head was to curry the designer’s favor.” Renarin calmly sipped his glass. “Cheating on your fiancée _already_ , brother? That must be a new record.”

“It’s _Azish_!” Adolin snapped. “It’s a perfectly good hat, and I would _never_ cheat on Shallan.”

“Defending your hat over your betrothed,” Kaladin said. “Brightness Davar is a fortunate woman.”

Adolin glowered. “One of you was bad enough.”

“Well,” Renarin said, turning to Kaladin, “you see, the hat has actually touched him.”

“Renarin.” There was no real force behind Brightness Navani’s reprimand. She plucked a glass of blue wine from a tray.

“Oh, of course,” Kaladin agreed. “It’s a shame, though.”

“What is?” Renarin leaned against the wall.

“That the hat would have such poor taste.”

“Why shouldn’t it? Adolin hasn’t any taste in hats.”

“I hate you,” said Adolin, “both of you.”

For a moment, Kaladin and Renarin smiled at each other. Kaladin moved in closer, rolling words around in his head, trying to form them into something approximating truth.

Renarin stammered an excuse and rushed to the other side of the room, Adolin pausing and trailing after.

Brightness Navani lifted her gaze to the ceiling and her glass to her lips. “Heralds,” she muttered, and drank. Then she turned to Kaladin. “My nephew has gotten it into his head you hate him. I take it you don’t?”

“Storms, no.”

“Then by all the names of the Almighty, just tell him that already.”

She left.

 

* * *

 

“ _Storms_ , Renarin!”

Kaladin tossed aside the dun spheres, shutting his eyes against the sting. The night was growing dark, the battlefield growing cold. A fire smoldered beside them, and Renarin’s still face was too pale.

“Just make it until dawn,” he whispered, cradling Renarin’s head in his hands. “Please. I can’t lose you, not now.”

The air was thick with the Weeping. Everything was cold and damp. Kaladin grit his jaw and stoked the flames. Thoughts kept running around, his mind soaked with Renarin’s blood.

“I made a fool of myself.” He put his head in his hands. “That’s all it was, Renarin. I made a fool of myself and I was ashamed to speak to you again because I thought you… I thought you thought so too. I didn’t hate you. I could never hate you. Please. Please know that.”

He could have laughed. He wanted to scream. This was _love_ , and he knew that so achingly raw now. There hadn’t been time. Why had he been so foolish?

Kaladin looked into the night, moons rising and filling the sky with purple and blue light. Words were dry stones in his mouth. “Months. So many _months_ lost to my cowardice. I allowed you to think… Don’t leave me, Renarin.”

Taln’s Scar burned red, and nightfall had ended. Still endless hours were left until dawn. The wound shouldn’t have been that bad, the last few spheres should have been enough, but _the arrow had broken_ and out here, in the dark— surgery had to wait. Kaladin bowed his head and tried to still his mind. He had a duty, and giving into the fears that whispered through his mind would destroy him.

Duty. He was a surgeon, he was a soldier standing watch, he was a man in a role he knew well. No thoughts beyond that.

“It’s a real nice night for an evening.”

Renarin’s voice was strained. He was forcing a crooked grin.

Kaladin breathed deep and shut his eyes. “I love you.”

The forced smile faded, now unnecessary. “I love you too.”


End file.
